When she caught up with him, she slid her hand into his. Mason stared at their linked fingers, no expression visible on his face. Playing poker with him would be inadvisable, unless it was a game of strip poker and she wanted to lose. Making a mental note of that new, fabulous idea, she reached up with her free hand and poked at the corner of his mouth. He raised a brow.
She shrugged. “You should smile when we’re holding hands.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” He looked down at where they were joined and a shiver worked its way up her spine, her nipples doing a little happy-to-see-Mason dance. She’d bet he knew it, too, because when he dragged his gaze back up her body, he paused at her bikini top.
“What else would you call this?” She held their hands up.
“Towing me?” But a smile quirked the corner of his mouth. And, okay, somehow she was in front of him, leading. The guy wasn’t wrong.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” he pointed out, taking over.
“What’s the point in going slow?”
“Someday, I’m going to show you.”
“Promises,” she said lightly. That was the problem with Mason. He said these things, but then he didn’t follow up. So it was entirely possible that he did just see her as one of the guys, and that his teasing was just that—teasing—and not a preview of coming attractions.
He led her inside the resort’s gourmet restaurant. It was closed right now in the three-hour window between lunch and dinner, but its emptiness made it easier to appreciate the way it fronted the lagoon with picture-perfect views of the water. It was a romantic place to dine, with rattan furniture, white tablecloths and crystal. Her first thought was that he wanted to show her a new place setting. Or point out the view. Maybe even run a menu by her, which might be fun. But...other than Mason and herself, the restaurant was empty—except for the cakes lined up with neat precision on a table. Five miniature, ornate, magazine-worthy wedding cakes.
“Is there going to be some mass cultlike wedding later today? Because I have to admit, that wasn’t quite how I imagined my wedding.”
Dropping her hand, he exhaled roughly, as if maybe she’d pushed him a wee bit too far. When she sneaked a peek at his face, however, he looked as calm and controlled as always. Which was too bad. She really liked the idea of Mason hot and bothered. Out of his element. She fidgeted with her top, smoothing the V that exposed her boobs, and his eyes dipped briefly.
Gotcha.
“You write a wedding blog,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Give the man a cookie.”
“So I asked the pastry chef to bake you some cakes. You can sample them for the blog. Take some pictures.” He shrugged as though it was no big deal, but it had to have taken hours to bake and decorate these. And he’d convinced the pastry chef to do this for her? Holy. Wow. Impulsively, she threw her arms around him and hugged him. Then equally quickly let go. The man’s mad organizational skills were not an invitation to touch, although they were technically dating, right? In a normal universe, that meant she got snuggling privileges. While her imagination started fantasizing some creative and potentially naughty scenarios, she set her bag on the floor, grabbed her camera and got busy.
“Describe each one for me.” She zoomed in for a close-up.
He pointed. “Lemon. Red velvet. White chocolate with raspberry. Coconut and lime. Vanilla.”
Those weren’t descriptions. They were lists. Of adjectives. It was kind of cute.
“Do you guys bake a lot of wedding cakes here?”
He shrugged, as though he’d produced a tray of simple cupcakes. “The pastry chef baked these. He didn’t complain, so we’re good.”
He grabbed a knife and a plate and advanced on Cake Row, clearly ready to start slicing and dicing.
She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. “Wait. It seems a shame to eat them.”
“Cake is for eating. I can get more.”
God. She could love a man like that. Who knew cake was so bad for her? Without waiting for an answer, he expertly sliced her a thin wedge from each cake and motioned her to a table. She felt a surge of something, and it wasn’t just cake lust. She sat on the edge of the table and the first bite was heaven. Lemon and vanilla. Not too heavy and just the right amount of frosting with some kind of almond cream between the layers. Possibly she moaned, because he grinned.
She was halfway through the second slice when she realized he was leaning against the wall, watching her. She liked cake. She wasn’t afraid to own that, although she definitely got the feeling that she might like Mason even more. His gaze dropped to her mouth as she slid the frosting-covered tines between her lips.